


Tender

by heartswells



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Abuse, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape, Sexual Assault, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 18:43:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20765138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartswells/pseuds/heartswells
Summary: At JT’s tender touch, phantom scars of the past became reopened, and from them spilled rotted memories that Tyson could not ever seem to silence.No matter how much Tyson loves JT, PTSD knows only one touch.





	Tender

**Author's Note:**

> content warning for mentions of rape and sexual abuse. the memories of abuse are not described in detail. this fic focuses on having a panic attack during sex as a result of flashbacks. Tyson is comforted by JT. There is no rape involved between the two in anyway.  

> 
> This was very difficult to share. And fuck, it just happens again and again and again. It’s lonely. (edit: repost; i deleted the original)

The sheets on JT’s bed were scratchy and worn, and the stuffing in the comforter they were atop was ridiculously bumpy, the old cotton matted together in some areas and completely lacking in others. When Tyson twisted his fingers in the sheets in an attempt to ground himself, he distantly wondered how JT could possibly feel comfortable wrapped up inside them.

Tyson tightened his grasp on the sheets, one finger slipping through a hole in the seam, as JT pinned his thighs to his chest. The weight of JT’s hands felt steady and warm against his body, eliciting a whimper of anticipation. Tyson felt too bashful to wrap his legs around JT’s shoulders, and so his legs quivered awkwardly in the air like a pair of rumpled wings.

JT lips felt like silk as he brushed featherlight kisses inside Tyson’s thighs. Each singular kiss was filled with reverence, sending little shocks of tender praise through his body. He was so beautiful—so heart wrenchingly beautiful that JT couldn’t bear to close his eyes. Tyson’s skin seemed to glow _ bright_, filled with light and joy in the wake of JT’s gaze, each kiss between his thighs akin to a sip of starlight.

Tyson lost himself in the tender praise of JT’s caresses. His blood sang, swirling beneath his skin hot and quick, and he whimpered and moaned in harmony with JT’s heartbeat. JT sank further between his thighs, and began to tenderly kiss the head of his cock, wetly worshipping him. Tyson cried out, eyes flying open with the sudden surge of electric pleasure—

And suddenly he realized he was_ crying_, wracked with disorientation.

In panic, he threw his arm over his face and shielded his eyes. Desperation and terror were asphyxiating him, and a agonized whimper ripped its way out of his throat. Burning tears flowed heavier now, and the inability to maintain control only worsened his stress. He swiped his hand over his eyes again, and JT immediately kneeled back in alarm.

“Are you okay?” JT asked, voice dripping with such earnesty that Tyson recoiled.

“Yeah—yeah, no, I’m fine. Keep going. I’m fine!” He gagged on the words, chest heaving and aching.

“No, you’re not. You’re crying, Tyson. What’s wrong?” JT asked, shifting to cradle Tyson’s face in his arms.

“Tysony?” JT prompted softly, and his voice was so quiet, so terrifyingly tender, that it scared him. His body _ rejected _ it; it made him feel like JT was soaking him in acid with each kind word.

JT buried one hand in Tyson’s hair and tucked a loose strand behind his ear, rubbing gentle little circles on Tyson’s cheek with the remaining hand. JT then flicked off the light and tugged the damnably scratchy sheet over them, pulling him close. Within the comfort of the quiet and the dark, he clung to the gentle pulse of JT’s heartbeat.

“Tysony?” JT whispered again, and Tyson heaved a harsh sob in response. His crying was composed of hysterical gasping and violent choking, yet otherwise quiet, no wails or words emitted, and the primal rawness of it scared JT.

“I think… it’s just been a long time since anyone has treated me so nicely.”

The words were spoken into existence without conscious thought, and it made Tyson’s mouth raw, as if he had spit out a mouthful of chewed glass. He had not intended to say them, had not even thought them, but the words felt _ right _when he heard them.

“Too… nice?” He felt JT’s hands soften impossibly more against his skin, and Tyson let out a strangled sob at JT’s infinite tenderness. In the shadows of the dark, JT suddenly became brutally aware of how monstrous what little he knew of Tyson’s past sexual experiences were.

“I don’t know why, I just got so _ scared— _ and I _ trust _you—I trust you. But it scared me. I don’t know. I don’t know why,” he sobbed.

At JT’s tender touch, phantom scars of the past became reopened, and from them spilled rotted memories that Tyson could not ever seem to silence. JT’s hands, which should feel so safe and healing, burned against his wounds, and they bubbled and blistered, oozing blood and memories.

JT became someone of the past. His body vehemently refused to recognize JT as JT, as someone special and worthy of trust. It saw only a replica of evil, an image of rape and assault, fear and pain. JT who was _ different_. JT who cherished him so tenderly it made him cry. From him, Tyson’s body could conceive only cruelty. His body ruthlessly refused to trust. It refused to accept that things could possibly change—that things had _ already changed._

He had thought he had moved on.

“I’m sorry,” he finally choked out because nothing else felt right to say.

“You don’t need to apologize, Tyson,” JT murmured against his neck. “There’s a lot of assholes in the world. You’re going to find good people.”

But he already had, and that’s what scared him most.

**Author's Note:**

> I rather enjoyed writing about JT’s bed. I like to image Tyson is a little cuddle bunny with a million cozy blankets & JT has had the same sheets since he was five and just can’t seem to let anything go.
> 
> **please feel free to comment or let me know if you’d like to see something specific about these two sweethearts. if it sparks something in my mind, I’d be happy to write it.**


End file.
